The Unknown (Transformers Book 1)

It would Appear That I've Been Impaled

Hey everyone! How's your day going? Guys, we are almost done with this book and I am so fucking excited because your girl has got some snazy shit for her next book. It won't go off the movie, btw, in case someone was wondering. 

And I want to give a big thanks to everyone reading this story, you have no idea how much I love you all for picking my book to read. I don't really care how many people I have reading it, I'm going to keep posting because I literally love this series. I've had it stuck in my head ever since I watched the first movie.

And in case anyone is wondering about the medical stuff, I used to work in a hospital, the Orthopedic floor and E.R. I'm also majoring in biology and taking a shit ton of anatomy and medical classes to hopefully, one day, become a trauma surgeon. Also, I like to ask my doctor friends about my books, so everything here is as realistic as I can get it (to my knowledge). :) Just in case anyone was wondering about the medical stuff.

...Yeet.

Lexi

The Trauma bay doors swoosh open and I stomp through with rolls of sweat trickling down my spine. Cool air pushes against my face, a welcomed relief from coming out of the summer heat. My feet and legs scream with exhaustion and all I can think about is wanting to collapse and take a long nap. If it were up to me I would have gone back to my house, but the hospital was closer and I knew people here, they could get me some fresh scrubs and check me for injuries. And thanks to Simmons, I no longer had a phone since his people snatched it from me. So calling someone to come pick me up was out of the picture. 

Medicine fills my nostrils, a welcoming smell compared to my sweat. Most people think that medicine smells bitter and foul, but here it smells sweet with harsh cleaning chemicals lingering in the back of my throat. Just the smell makes me feel cleaner. Lines of medical beds, some filled with elderly people to small children stand on either side of the Emergency room. It looks like I haven't missed a busy day. Good.

"Lexi?" I turn to the nurse's station that's protected with panes of glass. A woman with black hair wrapped in a neat, low bun, stands from her computer chair. Dark eyes give me a quick but thorough once over, probably noting the way blood is swiped across my cheek, where the bullet grazed me. "Oh god! What happened to you?"

Before I know it, Nadine is rushing towards me, pushing me to an empty trauma room while yelling at a few other nurses to help her. It feels rather weird to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. The one being helped instead of doing the helping. "Someone page the on-call trauma doc!"

For once in my life, I'm too tired to protest against anything and let Nadine, with her hooded eyes and dry hands lift my arms, turn my head in every direction, and check me for injuries.

"What happened to you? Are you alright?" Nadine asks concerningly as two more nurses enter the small empty room. One, with dark orange hair and freckled cheeks, wheels over a computer, logging in with her badge and begins to take notes on my vitals and health. Another shuts the blinds, giving me privacy and sets down a bag of IV fluids on a table beside me.

"Exhausted," I mumble, feeling the way my limbs ache with relief when I sit.

Alex, the male nurse with dark, shiny skin, checks my pupils. He waves a light stick in front of me, asking me to follow the light. "Normal dilation." He says while Nadine puts two fingers to the outer side of my wrist, near my thumb.

"Pulse rate of 78. Mark her down as an athlete." Naiden says, knowing that people who exercise regularly or run marathons have lower blood pressure and pulses due to a stronger heart which is able to utilize more oxygen with less work.